Is This Wrong?
by OreAmerika
Summary: After having a few strange dreams, America is starting to question himself. But with marriage equality being a controversial topic with his people, America himself is torn about his feelings. Can he accept how he feels about another man? Or will he lie to himself and everyone around him? UsUk and other pairings **rating may change**
1. Chapter 1

**Hiya guys! Sorry I haven't been writing much… I'm going to try to write more though! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of these characters. The only thing that is mine is the story itself. **

**Okay! Enjoy! :) **

Chapter 1

_The World Meeting was in full swing, the usually unused conference room now alive with a cacophony of nations' voices. Germany was ranting, as usual; France was trying his hardest to make Britain feel uncomfortable, America was watching Japan sketch, chattering happily with the Asian nation. All the while, China was glaring at a happy looking Russia, oblivious to South Korea sneaking his way over to him._

_ America sat, watching Japan design a new Vocaloid. Her swirling hair, shaded in a pale purple, framed her leaf green eyes. She had cherry blossoms woven into her hair, and light freckles dotted her face. "She will be able to sing in English and Japanese," he said quietly, gently shading the girl's mini skirt. America grinned and continued to watch him draw._

_ "Dude, how do you draw that good? My drawings suck." America said, his eyes never leaving the drawing. Japan blushed, which went unnoticed by the American._

_ "America-san, your drawings aren't that bad." Japan said. He was lying, but America didn't need to know that. America laughed at that._

_ "Dude, don't lie. Mine look like crap compared to yours." Japan opened his mouth to reply, but a loud crash interrupted him. America and Japan snapped their heads over to the source of the sound._

_ China was lying on the ground, South Korea on top of him, laughing. Russia was walking over to them, purple aura clouding around his face. America started laughing. "Run Yong Soo! Before the Commie Bastard get'cha!" America said, laughing. South Korea jumped up, flashed a grin to America, and took off out of the room. China got up and brushed himself off, muttering in Chinese. Germany pinched the bridge of his nose. _

_ "Ja, well seeing as you refuse to take this meeting seriously, why don't we just call it a day?" Germany said, frowning. Italy gave a small "Ve~!" grabbed Germany's hand, and pulled the blushing, yet angry German out of the room. America grabbed his things and looked at Japan._

_ "Yo, Japan, I gotta get somethin' to eat. I'm starving. I'll see ya later, okay?" Japan nodded. "Cool. See ya," America said, getting up from the uncomfortable chair._

_ "Wait, America-san? I have a question." Japan said._

_ America stopped in his tracks, and looked at Japan. "Yeah, dude? What's up?" he asked._

_ "Well, you called South Korea-kun by his human name. But you refer to everyone else by their country names. Why is that?" Japan asked, genuinely curious. _

_ "That's easy dude! Yong Soo is nothing like his bro! He's awesome! So I'm not gonna call him the same thing we all call his brother!" America said with a smile. Truth is, America can't stand North Korea, and whenever someone says the word "Korea," that's who he thinks of. "Yong Soo is Yong Soo. Korea is his brother. Make sense?"_

_ "Hai." _

_ "Alright dude, I'll see ya." America said, walking away. He walked out, on his way to the closest McDonald's, when he turned around, looking back in the meeting room. "Yo, Japan! You're coming over later to play those video games you gave me, right?" Japan nodded with a blush. "Alright! See ya then!"America gave a heart-stopping grin and left again._

_ The blush on Japan's face did not go unnoticed, but it wasn't America who saw it. It was a certain green-eyed Briton. He got up, ignoring France's actions to keep him there, and left. "A-America" England said, cursing himself for the slight waver in his voice. America turned, blue eyes shining. _

_ "Oh hey British dude! What's up?" America asked._

_ England said the first thing he could think of, "So, you're going to have Japan in your house later?" he said. _

_ "Dude, when you say like that it sounds dirty." America laughed slightly. England's cheeks flared a bright red. "But yeah, he gave me a bunch of new video games. So we're gonna play 'em later!"_

_ "Do you like Japan?" England asked suddenly._

_ "Do I like Japan?" America repeated, confused. "Uh-yeah! He's like my best bud! What kinda question is that?"_

_ England shook his head. "That's not what I meant, git. Japan likes you. He's, uh, __smitten__, I suppose." England said awkwardly._

_ "Dude, speak English. What the hell is 'smitten'?" America gave him a strange look, finally connecting the dots. "Wait! Dude! Are you saying that Japan __has a crush on me__?" _

_ "I suppose. Wait! You mean you didn't know?" _

_ "Of course I didn't know dude! How was I supposed to know he liked me?!" America said in a panic._

_ "Everyone else knew! You can see it whenever he bloody looks at you!" England shouted, throwing his hands up in the air._

_ "Man, what do I do?! He's sleeping over at my house dude! Why didn't you tell me before?!" America stared at him. "Wait a second… you thought I knew. Then… why did you care?" America asked, actually thinking intelligently._

_ "I- uh, I- well, you see… I-" England struggled to find the words._

_ America a few steps closer to the Englishman. "This has nothing to do with Japan." It was a statement, not a question._

_ "W-what do you mean "this has nothing to do with Japan"?! Of course it does! What else would it b-" England gasped as he felt America wrap his arms around his slender frame._

_ "I'm saying it has nothing to do with Japan. You like me, don't you?" America said, connecting the last dot." England cursed under his breath. He reluctantly nodded his head. "Say it." America commanded._

_ England sighed and looked at America, bright green eyes staring into sea blue ones. "America… I think I love you. No, I do. I love you America."_

_ America smiled, and genuine, loving smile. He leaned forward and kissed the slightly shorter British man. "I love you too."_

America woke up with a shout. '_This is the third time this has happened, what the hell is wrong with me? _' he thought to himself. He walked downstairs and made coffee. As he waited for it to brew; he thought more about his strange dream. "A seemingly normal dream, ending with England and me- and now Japan," he said to no one in particular. He had a habit of talking to himself when he was confused. "I mean, the other two were just England and me… " he poured himself a cup of coffee, still mulling over the dream. He took a sip of his coffee, '_Am I… Do I like England?'_ The wave of disgust almost made him throw up. "NO!" he shouted. "I can't like him! I'm a dude! He's a dude! I'm not a fag!" he gasped at his own words. '_Did you really just say that word? What the hell is wrong with you?!' _ He mentally screamed. "So what if I do?! There's nothing wrong with being g-" another wave of disgust rolled through him. He wanted to scream. '_Who can I talk to about this? Definitely not Britain…or Japan…hmmm' _

America walked over to the phone and dialed. It rang three times before someone picked up. "Hello?" the feminine voice asked.

"Hey, H-Hungary? I need your help…"

**End of Chapter One! I'm not really sure how long this story will be, it's kinda writing itself.. Yes this is a USUK fic… but there will be other pairings, don't you worry. This is kind of inspired by clashing opinions in my family… My father is a homophobe, but I am in full support of marriage equality. Marriage equality is a big topic around the world, so I thought it was fitting. I'll post the next Chapter as soon as I can! **

**Reviews are happiness!**

**~OreAmerika**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! I'm back! What will Hungary tell America? Well, let's find out :) **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Hetalia or any of the characters in this story. Nor do I own Youtube, Superman, or the Legend of Zelda games.**

**On to Chapter Two!**

**. ** .

Chapter 2:

"America? What's the matter hun?" Hungary said sweetly. Hungary could tell something was really bothering America. The self-proclaimed hero _never_ asked for help, and when he did, it was usually from Britain. There was an awkward pause, concerning the Hungarian woman further. "America?" she said again.

"Um…. Listen, I…. ya'know what? This ain't ssomethin' I can say on the phone…" America said awkwardly. How was he supposed to explain to Hungary what was wrong? _Why did he call Hungary? 'Hungary is the most accepting. And she would __never__tell England.' _ America thought, answering his own question. "Sorry dudette, I'm not really myself right now. I'm really confused about something, and I couldn't tell England. I," he sighed. He wasn't really sure what he should say.

"I understand America," Hungary said with a smile. She had no idea what was wrong, but she cared for the younger nation, he was almost like a little brother to her. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to get on a plane, and go to your home. That way you can tell me what's bothering you, okay?" She was already getting ready to leave before America could agree. He needed a woman's point of view on whatever he was struggling with.

America nodded, and then gave a quick "okay." He mentally face-palmed, _'nodding… You're on the phone, idiot.' _

"Okay Sweetie, I'll take a jet and be there as fast as I can. See you soon, America" she said and hung up the phone. She looked around her house quickly then was off to America.

America set the phone back down and wandered aimlessly around his house, coffee in hand. "Hungary will help me figure this out. As long as I don't talk to Britain or Japan I'll be fine! Yeah! I'm just going to watch T.V. until she gets here!" he drank more of his coffee and turned on the television. A newswoman in a navy blue jacket appeared on the screen.

"In international news, the U.K-"

America yelled and changed the channel. He didn't really pay attention to what buttons he was pushing, and accidently changed it to BBC. A British accent flooded the room. America shut the television off and threw the remote. "Dude, that's not cool," America huffed and looked at his gigantic collection of video games scattered around the various gaming systems the American owned. "I just need to get my mind off of Britain," he said looking through his collection. The Legend of Zelda, every version of it. He was about to play it when he realized…_fairies_. "CRAP!" '_I'll go on Youtube! That'll distract me!'_ America thought determinedly.

He finished his coffee and went over to his laptop. He typed in the URL and waited for the website to load. "Umm… what can I watch that won't remind me of..." he pushed the mental image of Britain out of his head. He typed: 'funny cat videos' into the search bar. Funny cat videos are always good. He clicked the first one, watching a cat run into a mirror with another kitten in the background. The white and orange kitten had a strangely serious facial expression for a cat. '_Funny, that one looks like England's cat…' _"DAMMIT!" he shouted aloud. A flashback of his dream went through his mind.

**flashback**

"_I'm saying it has nothing to do with Japan. You like me, don't you?" America said, connecting the last dot." England cursed under his breath. He reluctantly nodded his head. "Say it." America commanded._

_England sighed and looked at America, bright green eyes staring into sea blue ones. "America… I think I love you. No, I do. I love you America."_

_America smiled, and genuine, loving smile. He leaned forward and kissed the slightly shorter British man. "I love you too."_

**end flashback**

America felt another wave of nausea. _'Why does this keep happening?'_ He thought about the dream from the night before.

**flashback**

_America walked around the halls of W Academy, trying to remember where he left his bag. "I know I had it there, and I didn't have it when I was upstairs," he mumbled to himself, trying to retrace his steps. _

"_What's the matter, love?" an accented voice asked him. America turned around and saw England walking toward him, his (probably burnt) lunch in his hands. "Lose your bag again?" England smirked. _

"_Shut up." America said teasingly. America grabbed England's hand, "Help me find my bookbag. Puh-leeeaassee?" _

"_Fine." England kissed America lightly on the cheek before leading him down the hallway._

_**_end flashback**

"We were dating in that one…" America said. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come on in!" he shouted.

Hungary opened the door and let herself in. She chuckled at America's Superman pajamas. "Szia America. What can I help you with?"

"I need your help! I'm really confused. I keep having these dreams… about E-England…" America started, his face turning a deep shade of red. Telling this to Hungary was really awkward, and the waves of disgust were getting stronger every second.

Hungary's inner fangirl was awakened at that point. "Dreams like what?... like dirty ones?" Hungary asked the younger nation, trying her best to keep her voice level.

"What?! Dude! NO!"America shouted, his face flushing scarlet.

Hungary tried to hide her disappointment, "Well, when you say it like that… not erotic dreams huh? What kind of dreams?" Hungary asked again.

"Well, umm… I really don't know… cutesy ones I guess?" He looked at Hungary. She motioned for him to continue. He sighed, "well, last night, we were at a World Conference…and something happened, I don't really remember all of it, but it ended with me… k-kissing him… And the night before, we were at the Academy, and the way he acted…. It's like we were…." America was fighting the urge to throw up now.

"Dating?" Hungary finished the thought. America nodded slightly. "Well, America, it sounds to me like you're in love-"

"NO! I mean, I can't be, right?! We're both guys! It's not normal!" America shouted, staring at Hungary, his blue eyes wide.

"America? Are you… against homosexuality?" Hungary asked, shocked. America always seemed like an open, accepting person, so the idea of him being homophobic was unfathomable.

"No! I mean… yes?" he groaned, "I dunno. Half of me says that it's totally cool for dudes to love dudes and stuff, but the other half is saying that it's disgusting and wrong…. I haven't felt this way since the….Civil War… oh God. That's it."

"What's 'it'?" Hungary asked.

"My citizens… whenever they are in disagreement like this, I get emotionally torn… I hate it, but I never thought it would affect my life like this." Tears were pricking the corners of the American's eyes. "If I turn out to be…. _That,"_ he couldn't even say the word, "then I can never be with the man I love? Because half of me will think that it's gross and wrong?!" Hungary held out her arms for the American, who immediately threw himself into them, sobbing. "Hungary! What am I gonna do?!"

"I don't know sweetie. First, what we need to do is figure out your feelings for England. Then you can worry about the other things, alright?" America nodded, still not leaving her arms. Hungary's cell phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her coat, which she never took off, and looked at the message. It was her boss, telling her that she had to be back, ASAP. She sighed, stroking America's hair. "Honey, I have to go…"

America looked up at her like a kicked puppy. "You do?"

Hungary nodded. "I just got a text from my boss. I'm sorry America."

America stepped away from her, sniffling. "Nah, s'okay." He managed to smile, looking at her, "crying's not really very heroic though, So that didn't happen. Kay?"

Hungary laughed, "Sure thing." She walked toward the door. "And America?"

"Huh?"

"No matter what some of your citizens think, I think you and Britain would make an adorable couple." She smiled at the American boy.

"Thanks Hungary, you always know what to say."

"It's my job," Hungary said as she walked out. As she was leaving America's home, she worried for the young nation. Emotional turmoil is bad enough without questioning your sexuality, and if he follows his heart, half of his nation will hate him. "Good luck America," she said to no one in particular, before heading back home.

America went into his kitchen, and grabbed the ice cream from the freezer. Ice cream for breakfast always cheers him up. As he put the first spoonful in his mouth his only thought: '_What am I gonna do?'_

. .

**End of Chapter 2! A HUGE thanks to everyone who favorite and followed this story! **

**I hope to have Chapter 3 up by tomorrow! Thanks for reading!**

**Reviews are happiness!**

**~OreAmerika**


	3. Chapter 3

**What is Alfred going to do now?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or any other famous thing that may be mentioned. There.**

**On to Chapter 3!**

Chapter 3:

Half the day went by before America stopped moping around. He put the now almost-empty container of cookie dough ice cream back into the freezer, still thinking about what Hungary said. '_I need to figure out how I feel about Britain… but how am I gonna do that?' _he thought. America walked from the kitchen to his bathroom, looking at his reflection for the first time that day. He ran a hand through the mass of honey blonde tangles on top of his head. His blue eyes were puffy and reddened, his cheeks were tear-stained, and a look of absolute misery donned his usually happy face. "Man, I look like crap." He splashed water on his face and pulled a comb through his hair. "Well I'm not my usual sexy self, _but _at least I don't look like I have the plague." He finally decided to get dressed, so he wandered back into his patriotic bedroom, and threw on a pair of jeans, a Captain America T-shirt and, of course, his signature bomber jacket.

"A day out is what I need! I gotta stop thinking about all this depressing crap! Bye Tony! I'll see ya later dude!" America yelled as he walked out of his room, through his home and out the door. He wasn't sure if his friend had heard him, or if he was even awake, but he was more focused on leaving the house. He contemplated taking a car, but since he wasn't really sure where he was going, he disregarded the idea. He walked down the street, hands in his pockets. His phone buzzed against his hand. America jumped, it wasn't every day that he got a text from, well, anyone. _'What if it's from Britain?'_ his heart thumped in his chest as he opened the message.

Hello America. I was notified by my boss that we have a meeting on Monday. I do wish that I was told earlier, but I suppose it can't be helped. I shall see you Monday.

America looked at the message again. He finally looked at the sender. "Eyebrows." '_Oh, God. Why did I put him as "Eyebrows" in my contacts?' _He thought, mentally shouting at himself. At that moment, he too received a message from his boss about the meeting. He smiled at the screen. _'What better way to figure out my feelings than to talk to him? Right?' _America sent back a reply:

Hey Britain! Yea, I got the same txt. Guess Ill c u Mon! :)

America hit 'send.' He felt fine now, no butterflies, but no nausea either, much to the American's delight. The young nation continued to walk down the streets near his home, eventually running into a street fair. America grinned and sped up. He loved when people did street fairs, everyone had their families with them, and everyone looked so… happy. He sat down on a bench in the middle of the street, the perfect people watching site. He dug his phone out of his pocket and read the new text from England.

You git. You're ruining the English language again. Try spelling out all of your words next time, and no "smiley faces"

America smiled warmly at the text. _'He's such an old man.'_

"Who are ya talkin' to, mister?" A high pitched voice hit the American's ears. America looked up from his phone to meet the lively hazel eyes of a young girl. He smiled at the girl.

"My friend," he said happily. America had a special place in his heart for young kids, their innocence and imagination made them the best people to talk with, in the American's opinion. A bright smile appeared on the girl's face. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Charlotte," the girl said in a sing-song voice. "What about you, mister? What's your name?"

"Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. It's nice to meet ya Charlotte!" Charlotte shook his hand and sat next to America on the bench.

"So what kind of a friend? Like a girlfriend?" Charlotte asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

America laughed. "No no, nothing like that. Charlotte, where's your mom?" He quickly texted England:

OMG England. This little grl just asked if u were my gf XD Send.

Charlotte looked at him. "She's over there," she said pointing to a woman at a vendor across the street. "Alfred? What's your friend's name?"

*bzzt* Alfred's phone buzzed again. He glanced at his phone and chuckled. "His name is Arthur. He lives in England," he told Charlotte.

"England?" she asked, her eyes wide. "Wow! That's so far away!"

He ruffled Charlotte's hair. "Yeah, it is. Charlotte, it looks like your mom's lookin' for ya." Charlotte looked at her mother,

"Oh yeah, I gotta go. It was fun talkin' to ya Alfred!" she grinned before taking off after her mother. She waved to America from her mother's side. America waved back with a smile, then smiled at her mother to calm her nerves. Charlotte's mother visibly relaxed and smiled at the young nation. America took out his phone again and texted England again.

England tht grls mom thought i was a pedo. Awk. Send.

America stood from the bench and started walking down the street fair. His phone buzzed again.

Serves you right. What do you expect from talking to a little girl without her mother present? Idiot.

America pouted at his cell phone. He was just being friendly, there was nothing creepy about it. He decided to tell England the same thing.

Dude i was just bein friendly, im not a pedo. Send.

America huffed and put his phone in his pocket. He wasn't going to argue with England anymore. He was just going to enjoy the street fair, then go home and play a video game. '_God, I talk to a kid, who talked to me first, and now her mom thinks I'm a pedophile. Not cool. And now England thinks I'm creepy too. Fantastic,' _he thought bitterly. His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it. He didn't want to read what England said. Although he laughs it off, it really bothers him when people call him stupid. The American decided he had enough of the street fair, so he ambled through it until he reached his favorite McDonald's.

"Hiya Alfred!" the teenager at the counter waved. He waved back, and sat at his typical table. He didn't even need to order anymore. All the employees knew who he was, and what his order was. They immediately start making his meal fresh the second he walks in the door. This was definitely his favorite McDonald's. The teen girl from the counter came over to the booth, overfilled tray in hand. "Sorry for the wait Alfred. The street fair's been making us go crazy," she smiled and shook her head, her ponytail swinging back and forth.

"Hey, no problem, I get it. You didn't have to walk over, you could've told me to come get my food, ya'know," he teased. The girl blushed slightly, smiling.

"Well, ya'know you _are_ our best customer," the girl said giggling, "and I think our manager has the hots for ya." America thought about the manager, cringing slightly. He was your stereotypical McDonald's manager. Balding, middle-aged, on the heavy side, and always sweating, needless to say, he was not an attractive man.

"Don't scare me away now," America shared a laugh with the girl.

"Well, enjoy your meal Alfred," the girl said. America paid her, giving her an extra five bucks for bringing his food over to him. He took one bite out of his first hamburger when his phone buzzed again. America tried to ignore it, but it buzzed again. He checked his phone: England was calling him. Dread filled his stomach and, swallowing the mouthful of food quickly and washing it down with some Coke, he answered.

"Hello?" America said.

_"Well, apparently, my boss decided to spend a weekend in your country. We are getting on the plane now. I was told to alert you," _England said into the phone. America's stomach dropped. He bit into a fry nervously. He really didn't know what to say, and he suddenly didn't know how to talk to the person he's talked to his whole life.

"Oh?" America managed. He knew how awkward he sounded, and he prayed that England wouldn't notice.

_"Yes,"_ England said quickly. America heard a female voice in the background. _"America, are you alright? One word answers aren't like you," _England said, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Yeah," was all America said. He realized that was also a one word answer, but he didn't care.

_"Well, alright then. I'll call you when we land. See you soon," _England said, and the call ended. America slouched in his chair. What was he supposed to do now? He was supposed to have the weekend to think about his feelings, or lack thereof, _and then_ see England. Now England was hours away from being next to him. He suddenly felt like he needed to go home and clean, and shower, and get ready to see the Brit. He finished his food, waved to the girl at the register and walked back to his home.

Upon entering his home, he noticed it was…spotless. America gasped, seeing Tony cleaning. "Tony?! Bro what're ya doing?" America asked in shocked. Apparently, Tony tried making a smoothie and forgot to put the lid on the blender, then he felt bad and decided to surprise the American by cleaning the whole house. "How did you do that in an hour?" America still couldn't believe it. He could actually _see _his reflection in the countertops. Tony shrugged. "Well thanks a bunch, bro. I definitely owe ya one," he gave Tony a high-five and ran upstairs. He looked at the clock in his bedroom. He had about six hours left until England was there.

America did what any person would do in this situation: he flopped down on his bed, and screamed. "What the hell am I going to do?!"

**And that's Chapter 3!**

**I am **_**sooooo sorry **_**that I haven't been writing this. I don't even remember how long it's been since I've looked at this. I was stuck for a really long time, and unfortunately, I probably won't have Chapter 4 up for a while. I'm going on a cruise next week, and I'm not bringing my laptop. Hopefully, now that school is over and all that jazz, I can work on this story more often. Maybe (if time permits) I can have Chapter 4 up before I leave, but don't put all your hopes into it. I hope the people who read and enjoyed chapter 1 and 2 can forgive me for taking so long and haven't given up on me.**

**SORRY! **

**Reviews show that you don't hate me ;~;**

**~OreAmerika**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hiya again! OreAmerika here! I'm sorry it took so long again ;^; I went on a cruise to Bermuda (on the Norwegian Breakaway, which is a freaking BIG ship) and I was with my father so I couldn't bring my laptop with me (If you knew my father, you would understand why). Luckily, I don't have anything going on until August, where I'll be at a technology-free summer camp for a week, so **_**hopefully**_** I can will myself to write this faster. Thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, and to the two people who reviewed. I really appreciate it. ^x^ **

**WARNING: "F-word" is used. *shrugs* Tony.**

**Disclaimer: OreAmerika still does not own anything famous mentioned. (Hetalia and its characters, Homestuck, whatever)**

Chapter 4:

After America's mental breakdown, he made his way through his routine, eventually sitting in his study facing his computer. America laughed quietly to himself. Anyone walking in would think he was actually doing business related things; America chuckled hitting the link at the bottom of the page. He was so absorbed in his internet endeavors; he missed every warning alerting him to the English nation's arrival. His phone was abandoned in his bedroom, its obnoxious buzzing being muffled by the covers, so America never heard the phone go off.

England stood in front of America's house, knocking lightly on the door. "Where is hell is that wanker?" England muttered under his breath. He looked to the side of the door, and pressed the doorbell he discovered there. He listened to the chime echo through the home of the American but there was no answer. "He knew I was coming… " the Brit said aloud, genuinely confused as to why the younger nation did not answer his door.

America sat straighter in his chair. He looked away from the gray face on his computer screen and looked instead to the general direction of the door. '_What was that?' _the American thought. He shrugged, and turned back to the computer screen, reading his favorite webcomic again. Besides, he still had _hours_ before Britain got there anyway. Tony probably just turned the tv on. Yeah, that was it, nothing to worry about.

"America?" the British man called out. He felt like an idiot, standing outside and calling out the name of the country he was currently in. People walking down the street turned and stared at him, a little girl and her mother gave him a funny look.

"Mommy, why is he shouting the name of our country? And why does he talk funny?" the girl asked, a little too loudly. The British nation flushed a deep red. '_Why does he talk funny?'_

"Hush Charlotte," the mother replied, pulling her daughter away from the strange man.

England slumped over, slowly lowering himself to sitting on the porch. He gripped the sides of his jacket, pulling it closer to him. As the sun was setting, it was getting much colder. "Damn American weather," he mumbled. England swore that the American had the strangest weather in the world from 38°C in the day to -7° at night. He shivered slightly, hoping the American would open the door soon. He stood again, ringing the doorbell once more. This time, thankfully, after a few seconds, the door opened. "It took you long enough you bloody-" England blinked, looking at the gray alien in front of him.

"Fucking…limey?" Tony blinked, then frowned. England looked at the creature warily. Tony didn't like England, and England knew it.

"Tony, where is America?" England asked. _Please don't be an asshat to me today. _England shivered again; it was getting bloody cold outside. Tony looked toward America's study, and then looked at the Brit again.

"Fucking bitch," Tony muttered, letting the Briton inside. England's eyes widened, _Tony is actually letting me inside?_

"Thank you Tony," England said curtly. Tony shrugged, making his way back downstairs to the basement. A few moments later, England heard noises from downstairs. Tony was playing video games again. England shivered yet again; it wasn't much warmer in America's house, the furnace had yet to kick on. He walked over to America's study, opening the door slightly. America was staring at his computer screen, a confused look on his face. _Maybe he just got distracted by business,_ England thought. He had lost track of time doing work before, as any country does. "America?" England questioned.

America jumped, squeaking in surprise. "Britain?! How did you get in my house?!" America flushed. He looked at the time on his computer screen. How was it so late already?

"Tony let me in, as strange as that is. That's not the point America. I was out there for quite some time. What was so bloody important that you couldn't get up to answer the damn door?" England grumbled. He looked at the computer screen…and blinked in confusion. Nothing on the screen made sense. "What the hell…" England looked at the younger nation. America gave a sheepish grin.

"I was reading Homestuck -um this… I guess I got so absorbed in it that I didn't hear the doorbell?" America grinned bashfully. England glared at him, shivering again. "Dude, you cold?"

"_No, not at all,_" England said sarcastically. Unfortunately for the Brit, the sarcasm went right over America's head.

"… but… you're shivering..?" America stated, confusion on his young features.

"Yes I'm cold you idiot! I was standing out there for God knows how long, and it's -10° out there!" England snapped. America looked hurt.

"Dude… I'm sorry. Well, let's go into the living room, and I'll get'cha warmed up, kay?" England nodded, following America into the room. For such an energetic country, his living room was very calming. The walls were painted in a soothing coffee color, the white couch accented with blue pillows, it was nice. America gestured for England to sit on the couch, walking into the kitchen. England sat awkwardly on the sofa, scanning around the room. America came back in for a moment, handing the older nation a blanket from the closet down the hall, then he vanished into the kitchen again. England wrapped the blanket around himself, smiling in relief as the warmth flowed into his body.

'_What is that git up to?'_ England thought to himself, looking around the room again.

America paced back and forth, waiting for the water in the tea kettle to boil. '_What do I do? England is in my living room, he's cold, and he's pissed.' _America repeated the thought again and again. The water finally came to a boil, about the same time the coffeepot finished making his drink of choice. The smell of coffee filled the house, making the American relax. He poured himself a cup of coffee, mixing in a bit of cream and sugar. He looked at all his coffee mugs, picking one that wouldn't look ridiculous in England's hands. He picked one of his older mugs, with his original flag on it, the Union Jack in the corner. As he put the teabag in the mug, filling it with water, he thought about whether that was going to hurt him. He decided that it really didn't matter. England had forgiven him for the Revolutionary War by now, right? He took the teabag out of the mug, splashing a little milk in the tea, and carried the mugs into the living room.

England was standing now, looking at some of the pictures on the mantle of the stone fireplace. America blushed when he realized what picture it was England was admiring. It was a picture of himself during the 20's. The pinstriped suit looked really good on the American, and if suits weren't so uncomfortable, he would've loved that trend to have stayed. He was grinning at the camera, his arm wrapped around the waist of Clara Bow, at the premiere of her silent film It. She was by far the best actress of the 20s, in America's opinion and that was her best film. "England? Here, you still like milk in your tea right?" America rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, "I probably should've asked earlier."

England whipped around, startled enough to let the blanket fall from his shoulders. "Yes… I honestly can't believe you remembered that…" England trailed off, taking the mug of tea from America's hand, their fingers brushing against each other. America blushed, feeling the butterflies flutter in his stomach. He took a sip of his coffee, averting his eyes. England gasped, looking at the mug in his hands.

"Something wrong?" America asked. He looked over at the older nation to see his green eyes brimming with tears. England brushed the tiny Union Jack on the cup, the memories flowing through the Briton's brain.

"This mug…" England trailed off again. America mentally face-palmed. He knew something like this was going to happen, but he used that cup anyway.

"Well, I didn't think you would want a Batman mug," America laughed, it was a hollow sound.

England, who was sitting again, looked up at his former colony, a genuine smile glowing on his features. "You… kept this? I thought for sure that you would've thrown out anything like this."

America's heart skipped a beat. _That smile._ He felt a slight wave of disgust again, but he repressed it. He wanted to see England smile again. "Why would I do anything like that? I mean I almost did," he shrugged, "but I guess I'm all sentimental now."

England looked at his former colony again. "How much did you keep?"

America shrugged again. "Dunno. Enough to fill my storage room though. I think the least amount of stuff I have is from the 30s. I hated that decade and I never ever wanna be reminded of it, ya'know?" America looked at England with a crooked smile. "What about you? Did you keep all that stuff?"

England shrugged, "There were a few things I just couldn't throw out, but that's about it." He wasn't about to admit to America that he had kept everything from those years, including every horrible drawing, sloppily written letter, he even pressed the flower America had given him when he was a toddler. But he wasn't going to tell America any of that.

America finally sat next to the older nation, sipping his coffee again. He turned the tv on for background noise, BBC still on the screen. He changed the channel to the movie channel, where some chick flick was on. He shook his head and just put music on instead. "Never anything on TV," America grumbled. England chuckled slightly, making America blush.

"Still can't stand the silence, hmm?" England teased. America blushed again.

"Shut up."

"Maybe you haven't changed as much as I thought." England smiled, taking a sip of his tea. America really did remember how he liked his tea; it was just strong enough, with the perfect amount of milk in it. He held the cup in both hands, absorbing the warmth. The furnace turned on then, warm are flowing through the vents. This paired with the smell of coffee lingering in the room, gave it the perfect cozy atmosphere.

"Maybe you haven't either," America murmured. He smiled over his mug to England before taking another sip from his coffee. _'This almost feels like…a date.' _America felt the disgust again, but he ignored it. He didn't care if part of him thought it was wrong. It felt right. England returned the smile, giving the younger nation butterflies again. The sound of rainfall echoed through the home, louder than the music America had in the background. "Bringing your bad weather with ya?" America laughed.

Normally, England would've made a snappy remark, but he thought back to the comment earlier. America had actually looked upset when England had snapped at him. England didn't want that again. He actually didn't want to make a remark. He just chuckled along with the American, "I suppose I did." A loud crash of thunder caused the American to stiffen on the couch. England was flabbergasted. "You aren't seriously still afraid of thunder, are you?"

America looked at him. "Of course not! What kind of hero is scared of a little storm?!" Another crash of thunder, louder than the last, rattled the windows. America gave a small shout of fear and stared, wide-eyed, at the window. England stared at him. It amazed the Briton how such a strong, powerful nation would be scared of something so frivolous. A flash of lightning lit up the room, then total darkness. England looked at America's dark form (all he could see now that the power had gone out) to see he was shaking. His hands were clapped over his ears and he was shaking like a leaf.

"America…" England put his hand on the nation's shoulder. America looked at him, and with the flash of lightning outside, he could see just how terrified the younger nation was. England did what any sane person would do. He scooted closer and hugged the American. America gasped before burying his face into England's neck. His heart was pounding, from both the fear of the thunder and the rush of England holding him.

"It doesn't remind you?" America asked the man holding him.

"Remind me? Remind me of what, exactly?" England asked. Thunderstorms just remind him of London. Reminds him of home.

America mumbled something. Thunder rattled the window again, making America grip England's shirt tightly.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you," England tipped America's head away from his neck so he could hear him better. There were tears forming in the corners of America's eyes now. As one escaped, America angrily wiped it away.

"Heroes don't cry," America said, more to himself than to England.

England forced America to look at him, his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness. "America, what do thunderstorms remind you of?" The thunder boomed again, louder, if that was possible. America whimpered but didn't fling himself back into England's arms. England grabbed America's hand and brought him into the patriotic bedroom. He handed America the bald eagle plush that was next to the pillow, and he sat on the edge of the bed. "There. At least you can't see the lightning anymore," England said, drawing the curtains closed. "Now what is it?" England asked again.

"…War okay? _It reminds me of war,"_ America said, clutching the bald eagle plush. _Boom._ America flinched again. England realized what he meant. The lightning, paired with the booming thunder, sounded similar to the cacophony of war. All that was missing are the shouts of commanding officers.

"War? I don't understand," England said. America always jumped into war, England had always assumed that he enjoyed the thrill of the fight.

"You probably think that that's weird, huh?" America started, "Truth is, I hate war. I hate it! I jump in to protect my friends, but then I see those bright-eyed recruits…. _Do you have any idea how hard that is for me?!_ Knowing that the young soldier saluting me today may be in the ground tomorrow? I can't stand it! Hearing about everyone's families, this guy's gonna be a daddy, that one's gettin' married, the other one is goin' to college when he gets home…" America was getting more and more upset. England put his hand on the younger nation's shoulder again, trying to get him to stop. He hated seeing America so worked up, seeing him crying like this almost brought tears to his eyes. America looked England in the eyes, tears streaming. "What kind of hero am I if I lead these kids to battle, knowing that some of them were never coming home?" The last sentence was no more than a whisper.

England sat there, heartbroken. He had never truly thought about it that way, and he never dreamed that America did. England moved closer to the American, wrapping his arms around the younger nation. "Shh… America it's alright…" England cooed, attempting to comfort the sobbing country. America just hugged England tightly, sobbing. He hated looking so weak, but he couldn't stop. "America, just try to sleep. In the morning, the storm will be over and we'll do whatever you want, alright?"

America nodded against his shoulder. "I gotta put pajamas on first," he laughed weakly. England laughed.

"I suppose you do," England ruffled America's hair, the way he did when America was younger. It dawned on England that he left his suitcase at the hotel with his boss. "I don't have-"

"-your suitcase. I know. Here," America handed a pair of plaid pajama pants and one of his shirts, blushing as he did so. "They're my smallest pair of pajama pants, but I don't know if they'll fit you," America said awkwardly. The thunder was dying down and the power flickered back on; England watched America slowly return to his old self.

"I'll just be a moment," England walked into the bathroom connected to America's room, and got changed. For some reason, England couldn't get dressed in front of America, he wasn't sure why. The pajama pants were a little baggy, but they'll do. England unbuttoned his shirt and put America's T-shirt on. He was practically swimming in the shirt, but it was really comfortable. '_It smells like him.'_ England shook his head, clearing the strange thought and looked in the mirror. He looked like a bum, but that didn't really matter. In retrospect, he wasn't even sure why he looked in the mirror in the first place. He folded his clothes and carried them back in America's room. America was wearing a charcoal gray shirt with… "Is that a hammer?" England asked aloud. What kind of shirt is that?

America just grinned. "Yup!" he exclaimed, but no explanation was given. He climbed into his bed, looking at England expectantly.

'_Does he..' _England just cleared his throat. "Umm… where is the guest room?" England asked.

America looked at him like a kicked puppy, "but what if the thunderstorm comes back?" he asked in a small voice.

"You don't seriously mean…" England looked at America again to see the most adorable pout in the world.

"Please?"

England rolled his eyes and huffed, "Fine." _Damn that pout of his._ England climbed into bed with the American, who immediately curled up against his chest. "Goodnight America."

America rolled over and flicked the light switch, before rolling over and snuggling into England's chest again. His heart was pounding and he could hear England's was beating slightly faster than normal too. The nausea was hitting him full force now, but he really didn't care. _'Screw the homophobes. I'm… I'm in love with him…' _the waves of nausea increased as he made that realization, but he repressed it again. He was going to enjoy this weekend and maybe… who knows?

"Goodnight England," America murmured, closing his eyes and falling asleep to England's heartbeat.

**And that's Chapter 4! Thanks to everyone for reading! Sorry it got kinda angsty… as I was typing this, a huge storm came through, and well, that was the result. So America is not what he seems. Do you understand America's T-shirt? It'll make me really happy if you do. I actually really like where this chapter ended, although the part in the middle was sad. **

**As always Favorite, Follow and Review!**

**I'll start typing Chapter 5 tomorrow!**

**~OreAmerika**


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